Too Bad, Too Late
by BookCaseGirl
Summary: Oneshot, song-fic. Chuck and Blair go on a date, and on the way home, tragedy strikes. Angst, angst, angst.


**A/N:** Long story with this one...I started at like ten-thirty with it being a collection of drabbles...One of those 'put your iPod on shuffle and write drabbles' things. I had what I thought was an amazingly perfect one, unfinished, and then my damn computer crashed. I hadn't saved it, and I was so pissed. [All of this is totally useless and meaningless, but it's 11:50 P.M.]. When I re-started my computer, I had a different approach at the story, because I had listened to the song with a different mind-set and absorbed things better. I think I'll still try that whole "drabble shuffle song-fic" thing...Just not tonight. I'm happy with this.

P.S.: I do not own 'I Can Feel a Hot One' or Gossip Girl

_Too Bad, Too Late_

_Manchester Orchestra – I Can Feel a Hot One_

_Well, I can feel a hot one _

_Taking me down_

_For a moment I can feel the force_

_Fainted to the point of tears_

_And you were holding on to make a point_

_What's the point?_

_----------------------_

_I took it like a grown man_

_Crying on the pavement_

_Hoping you would show your face_

_I haven't heard a thing you've said_

_---------------------_

_I was in the front seat_

_Shaking it out_

_And I was asking if you felt alright_

_I never want to hear the truth_

_I wanna hear your voice it sounded fine_

_My voice it sounded fine_

_--------------------_

_The blood was dry_

_It was sober_

_The feeling of audible cracks_

_And I could tell it was over_

_From the curtains that hung from your neck_

_-------------------_

_And I realized that then_

_You were perfect_

_------------------_

_And the Lord showed me dreams of my daughter_

_She was crying inside your stomach_

_----------------_

_And I felt love...Again_

"Blair...I had fun tonight," Chuck managed to say, despite his stomach competing in the Olympic diving competition.

She turned to look at him and widened her eyes in shock. Then a pleasantly surprised smile spread on her red lips. She let out a throaty laugh and shook her head in disbelief.

"Chuck Bass..." she chuckled with each word. Her eyes and expression became serious as his eyes met hers. Sure he was driving, but who the hell cared? If Blair Waldorf was about to say something loving and kind to him, he would be damned if he wasn't going to savor the moment so he could remember it.

"I had fun too," he whispered. Her hand found his on the armrest that sat in between them.

Normally Chuck used the limo for his method of transportation. It was his mantra; but tonight he had wanted to show her the _real_ him, without the Chuck-mobile. She had seemed happily intrigued at first, and now it seemed she was getting used to it. As if she would expect it from then on.

As he looked down at their hands, he thought back to the road. It was hard for Chuck to get used to the whole 'eyes on the road' thing because he was Chuck Bass.

He hadn't driven a car since the day he'd turned sixteen. He and Nate, who had been high at the time, had taken driver's ed courses for shits and grins and he'd knocked over nearly every cone in a drunken spiel of laughter.

When Chuck turned to look through the windshield, he saw the alarming and bright lights of a Lexus sedan. He gasped before he heard the grinding of metal when silver paint met red.

His first reaction was to look at her; it was instinct. Unconscious, she was unconscious. Blood was dripping from her hair, her ears, her mouth.

She looked at him and he managed a faintly comforting grimace.

Her voice hadn't reached him at the time; it only came to him like a whisper in his most alcohol-induced sleeps and most hazy, coked-up afternoons.

"_I love you, Chuck Bass," Blair murmured, attempting to reach out and touch his cheek, but failing with a pained expression. "Live your life to it's fullest. You'll move on and find someone to love me as much as I love you. You will share your life with them. Do you understand? Please, Chuck."_

He followed her limp body on the stretcher to an angel in the form of ambulance. He stood outside and stared at her blank face. A sob slipped from his throat violently and out of nowhere. Salty wet water tumbled from his eyes and he let out a strangled yell.

It seemed that no one heard. No one cared. The only one who had ever cared was...She was in the back of an ambulance going to a hospital, that was what she was.

He sat by her in the ambulance, stroking her dark ember locks of curled hair. He spoked to her in soft tones, his words incoherent, but still vaguely comforting. Something deep inside of him said that she could hear him, and his words helped. They healed, they comforted.

He walked in to look at her. Her face was the smoothest of porcelain; there was the faintest of brown stains tainting her collarbone – the collarbone that he had kissed, licked, and nibbled at lovingly so many times before. There was a blanket draped along her frail and oh-so-breakable body, covered in what appeared to be slightly newer blood.

He heard the screeches of metal yet again as he stared down at her closed eyelids.

With her pale lips and china-white face she looked like an angel, which was precisely what she was now. She was heavenly, her beauty ethereal. Her features were so much more distinctly defined, her physically beautiful qualities much more prominent now than they had ever been.

Well, that was just too bad, wasn't it?

"_Sir," the coroner had come to talk to him. He hadn't realized that they were going to the coroner and not a different hospital (so as to better take care of his beautiful Blair) until it was too late._

"_The autopsy is done," he continued. "We found a small fetus. Only about a month or so along. Usually we're unable to tell if it's a boy or girl at this point, but since it was removed....Well, we were able to ascertain that it was a female."_

A tear slipped down his cheek. She had told him that she had something important and thrilling to tell him that night. He'd noticed that she was gaining weight slightly, but hadn't mentioned anything for fear that her bulimia would relapse. He hadn't even begun to fathom...not in his wildest dreams...

Chuck's tears continued on more freely. They were part happiness and also part agonizing guilt and terror at what the next weeks, months, and years of his life would bring.

He felt a strangely amorous feeling sweep over him. Love couldn't describe it; perhaps it was broader than love, but just as thin as the definition of it.

As Chuck Bass stroked Blair Waldorf's hair for one last time, memorizing how soft and flawless her skin was, and melted himself into her for the final moment – in the form of tears – he let go. He let the love overcome him and didn't push it away.

He hadn't felt it in so long. Love felt good; Chuck had let that slip his mind.

It was just too late.

**A/N:** This is dark, I know. I think it's one of my more morbid ones, but I was really happy with the turnout. It is un-beta'd (sort of; I checked it over and made some changes myself) so any mistakes that are still there are totally mine. I hope I get some reviiiewwsss...;).


End file.
